


Fade

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: F/M, Post Movie, self harm tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5186351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akane deserves better than this. Better than him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fade

**Author's Note:**

> I...I'm sorry about this.

She doesn't deserve this. 

She doesn't deserve to be lying in a sterile room, tubes running in and out of her body, down her throat, pumping drugs into her blood, eyes closed and skin grey. She doesn't deserve to be stuck like this when her mind is so brilliant and her smile brings so much hope. 

The doctor tells Ginoza that they don't know when she'll wake up. 

And all Ginoza can say is, “She has to.” 

* 

“Inspector Tsunemori provided a will. Did you know that, Enforcer Ginoza?” 

Ginoza didn't know that. Chief Kasei slides the tablet across her desk, towards him. The words of Akane's will blur together. He can't read them. 

Luckily, Kasei decides to explain for him. “Tsunemori has an interesting list of people to take care of her affairs. Why there are enforcers on this list, I have no idea. But you're lucky that we can take care of everything within the confines of the Ministry of Welfare.” 

Otherwise, Ginoza thinks, I wouldn't be able to fulfill anything on this piece of paper. 

“You've been designated as her medical advocate,” Kasei continues, “in the absence of her grandmother. All decisions must go through you. Including the decision of whether or not--” 

“Okay,” Ginoza interrupts, not wanting to hear about that decision. He shouldn't have to make that decision. Akane is going to wake up. “Thank you.” 

He turns to walk away, but Kasei asks, “How is your hue, Enforcer?” 

“I don't know,” Ginoza admits, and he hurries out of her office. 

He doesn't want to know. 

* 

The doctors and nurses watch him, but they don't talk to him aside from every day pleasantries. 

He knows what they want to say to him. And they know he doesn't want to hear it. 

Not yet. 

Akane has never given up. Akane has always fought. Akane has always given everyone hope. 

He can't give up on her. 

He sits beside her bed and talks to her. He's still working. The Division is being run ragged in her absence. Mika seems lost without her partner. He doesn't worry her with those details. He just tells her the facts. That they've been working on some cases, have closed some while others are ongoing. That he's fine, that Mika is doing well, that Hinakawa comes to see her. 

There's only so much he can say about work. He runs out of cases, boring administrative details, and the only thing left to talk about is something more personal. 

He doesn't. The room stays silent, save for the whir of machines keeping Akane alive. 

* 

“Let me see her!” 

He woke up to screaming and is only just now realizing that it was his own. 

“Let me see her! Let go! I need to see her!” 

He tries to tear himself free of the hands holding him down, pinning him to the bed. There are voices shouting at him. Too many voices. He hears words like “accident” and “blood loss” and “calm.” He isn't calm. He feels pain but it doesn't matter. He needs to see Akane. 

Akane, who had taken the lead while walking into a building held by terrorists from overseas. Even though he'd told her not to. He saw the bomb go off, saw her go flying through the air seconds before something knocked him unconscious. 

He should have gone first. 

* 

“Inspector Tsunemori has suffered extensive brain injury. She might recover, but the longer she doesn't wake up, the more likely it is that she never will and that the damage to her brain is irreparable.” 

Ginoza wants to shout at them. He wants to tell them to use all that damn medical technology they've developed over the years. They should be able to fix everything. 

He doesn't shout. Because he knows that he can't say anything they haven't thought or tried. They're doing everything they can. It's not their fault that they can't fix Akane. 

It's his fault that she got injured in the first place. 

* 

“You're back.” Mika blinks at him, stunned, from her desk. 

There are still bandages around Ginoza's torso covering the stitched up gashes, the result of shrapnel from the explosion. The injuries sting, but Ginoza has to get back to work. He doesn't deserve to relax. Not when Akane is dying. Not when he needs to do his job. 

“You need help,” he says. “I can work.” He goes to his desk and sits at his computer, ignoring the concerned looks from Hinakawa and Kunizuka. 

“You should rest,” Kunizuka tells him over lunch. 

“I can't,” Ginoza says. 

*

Every time he closes his eyes he replays the explosion in his head. And in his dreams, he's stuck there, kneeling over Akane's mangled body, his own hands trying to stem the blood pouring from her wounds. But he's soaked in it. Akane doesn't even look like herself anymore. 

Ginoza wakes up, gasping for air. His hands cold. Clean. But he feels like they're coated in her blood, sucking the warmth out of him. 

*

One month. 

Ginoza has run out of things to say. Anything that might come out of his mouth won't be helpful. 

He wishes he had encouraging things to tell her. But the team is a ghost of what it used to be. He has the feeling they've given up. They look at him, pity in their eyes. They want to ask when he'll accept that she's gone. 

But she's not gone. She's right here. 

One of the doctors comes in. “You're here so often, Ginoza-san,” she says, and her eyes too hold that same pity. And sadness. 

Ginoza nods. 

She says, gently, “Perhaps now is the time to start thinking about next steps. I'm sorry, but there's almost no chance that she will wake up or recover now. The machines can keep her going for a long time, but she'll stay like this.” 

“No.” Ginoza lurches out of his chair. “Don't say that.” 

“Ginoza-san, please-” 

Ginoza rushes out of the room, barely makes it to the nearest bathroom before he's sick, stomach twisting inside out, retches sounding like sobs. 

He kneels on the floor, staring at the toilet. Grits his teeth. 

With a strangled shout, he punches the wall. 

This is the best he can do. Akane needs him and this is the best he can do. 

She deserves better. 

* 

One month. 

Kunizuka saves him from being shot. 

“You look like hell,” she tells him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, picking himself off the ground from where she'd tackled him. “Thank you.” 

“Pay attention,” she says. “And maybe...” She sighs. “Maybe it's time to let go.” 

He's too tired to be angry at her. 

* 

Everyone is moving on. Everyone is adjusting. So why can't he? 

Two months. He hasn't slept. He doesn't go out anymore. Dime whines at him to go to the park, but he can't bring himself to ask Mika to come with them. He only works. He probably shouldn't be working. But Division One doesn't have enough personnel, so they let him keep killing himself on the job. 

Kunizuka catches him outside, touches him arm, a rare gesture from her. 

“You want me to let her go,” Ginoza says. 

“It's not giving up,” Kunizuka tells him. “She died back there.” 

“I'll be killing her,” Ginoza says, looking away. “It's my fault. I should've--” 

“It's not,” Kunizuka says. “Those people who planted the bomb are at fault.” 

“I should have gone first. I should have protected her.” Ginoza sighs. “I should have--” 

“Don't think like that,” Kunizuka says. “If Akane can't slap you for that kind of stupid thinking, I will.” 

* 

Two months. Ginoza stares at Akane's sunken cheeks, her shadowed eyes that haven't looked at anything in far too long. They'll never look at him. She'll never smile at him again. 

“Don't make me do this,” he says, his first words to her in weeks. 

She doesn't answer. 

“Is this your way of punishing me for not protecting you?” Ginoza asks, voice breaking. “Making me kill you?” 

No answer. 

“Is that what you want?” 

He looks at her for the first time in weeks. Really looks at her. The way she's wasted away, more tubes than actual flesh and bone. And he knows. He knows that she doesn't want to be like this. 

He's supposed to be deciding what's best for her. 

And he's been hanging on. 

But she's always given him hope. And he's been hoping that once again, she would be able to surprise him. 

He stares at her. 

She doesn't wake up. 

* 

The next time they go out into the field, Ginoza points his dominator at himself, the muzzle pressed against his chest. 

His crime coefficient is 227. 

He's alone, and he leans against the nearest hard surface, taking deep breaths that get caught in his throat. Hands shaking, dominator still pointed at his heart. 

He deserves to hurt. He deserves to die. 

He's afraid to pull the trigger. He's a coward. It won't kill him anyway. 

But it might prevent him from thinking about her. About his failure. Just for a little bit. 

He takes a deep breath. Pulls the trigger. And falls. 

* 

On a cool, sunny spring day, they ride in the police car with the windows down, back into the city from the cemetery. 

Akane is smiling, bright and care free. She might have been crying a few minutes ago while visiting her grandmother, but now her eyes are clear. 

“We should go to the park,” she says. “It's so nice out. It would be a shame to not take advantage of it.” 

“Are you sure?” Ginoza asks. 

“We can pick up Dime,” Akane says. “Besides, I never see you relax. You should relax more.” 

And they do. They go to the park, Dime's leash wrapped around Ginoza's artificial wrist. They walk into a small collection of trees blooming pink flowers, and Akane reaches for Ginoza's hand, takes it. 

Her hand is warm. 

She doesn't say anything, and neither does he. Holding her hand is more relaxing than anything Ginoza has done in a long time. 

Neither lets go until they're back at the car. By then, the sun is setting. 

* 

No one asks him why he did it. He wakes up and Hinakawa is there, playing a video game with shaky hands. 

“I'm sorry,” Ginoza tells him. 

Hinakawa looks up, meeting his eyes, understanding. “It's okay,” he says. “It's hard.” 

* 

He's given leave for a few days. He's released from the medical ward. No one is assigned to watch over him. Enforcers don't get those kind of resources. 

Ginoza heads to Akane's room. The walk seems impossibly long. He has to force every step. He has to force every breath. He feels like he might black out. 

But he gets there, stands at the end of Akane's bed. Her doctor comes into the room and Ginoza says, “She's gone, isn't she?” 

“She is,” the doctor agrees. 

“Then...” Ginoza swallows. “Let her go. But can I...be with her while that happens? I don't want her to go alone.” 

“Of course.” 

Ginoza lowers himself onto the bed. There's too much room. Akane takes up so little space. He lays down, facing her. Takes her cold hands in his. 

Her hands had always been warmer. But now his real hand provides the warmth. 

The doctor moves around, turning off the machines one-by-one. The heart monitor steadily slows its beeping. It's the last sound in the room. 

Ginoza doesn't take his eyes off Akane's face. 

The beeping stops.

Nothing changes. And in a way, he already knew. 

* 

He opens his eyes. In his own bed. 

She's gone. He's alone.


End file.
